The Wounds After the Fight
by Her Ghost Eyes
Summary: After the fight with Jace in COG, Clary's hurt gets the best of her. Angsty.


This is my first attempt at Mortal Instruments---that I've posted, anyway. I've always wondered what grief Clary had felt after her 'arguement' with Jace. Pretty angsty---but I hope you enjoy nevertheless!

***Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Cassandra Clare.***

Lyrics (**Save the Hero **by **Beyoncé**):

**I lay alone awake at night**

**Sorrow fills my eyes**

**But I'm not strong enough to cry**

**Despite my disguise**

**I'm left with no shoulder **

**But everybody wants to lean on me**

**I'm guess I'm their soldier **

**But who's gonna be mine?**

* * *

Clary brushed a stray red curl from her eyes, looking away from her reflection in the mirror. Dark shadows were cast under her eyes from lack of sleep, but she didn't care. She didn't need sleep. She didn't deserve sleep. She had no _right _to be feeling this–this _affection _for Jace.

_No,_ a small, more truthful part of her whispered, _you don't just feel affection, you're in love with him._

Her heart felt like it had been ripped into a million pieces, bit by bit, atom by atom. She could so clearly remember his words, the harsh tone in which he spoke them, the fiery anger in his eyes--and something else, too. Something she couldn't quite identify. It was probably just disgust. That much was obvious, he had been digusted to find her there. She was only a burden to him, to everything he represented, to everything he cared about.

"_But it's not like every decision I've made was a bad one! You said, after what I did on the boat, you _said_ I saved everyone's life–"_

"_Shut up, Clary, SHUT UP–"_

"_On the boat. What about what happened on the boat? Jace–" _She didn't know how, through the haze of pain, but she still remembered Alec cutting in. His confusion, and her realisation of the fact that Jace had not told them what had really happened. But, why not? It wasn't like they weren't to be trusted. Or perhaps---just perhaps---he didn't want them to know. Perhaps he didn't want them to know that she had the power to destroy a ship, tear it apart, hinge by hinge. She knew, for one thing, that Jace certainly still viewed her as an innocent young girl who was oblivious to the Shadowhunter world.

He needed to learn.

"_I just told you that to keep you from whining! You're a disaster for us, Clary! You're a mundane, you'll always be one, you'll never be a Shadowhunter. You don't know how to think like we do, think about what's best for everyone–all you ever think about is yourself! But there's a war on now, or there will be, and I don't have the time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you don't get one of us killed!" _

Those were the words that tore her apart. They were the words to her destruction, to her painful undoing. But she would not cry. She would be strong, just like she was brought up to be. Why show fear, why show emotion, when all it would do is destroy your dignity as well as your heart?

_"When you told me the first time that Valentine was your father, I didn't believe it," _she remembered her deadly calm words. Deadly calm. She didn't have the strength, nor the need, to unleash her anger on him, not like he did on her. "_Not just because I didn't want it to be true, but because you weren't anything like him. I've never thought you were anything like him. But you are. You _are._"_

And it was true. She had seen the flash of anger, the overwhelming feel of power that radiated through Jace's bones. She had seen how he had seen how much he was hurting her, and yet he barrelled ahead, like a freight train, with no idea of how to stop. It was like she was his verbal punching bag; there only to take the blow of his frustration, not for any other use. Never for any other use.

A sob so raw exploded from her chest that she startled even herself, but she couldn't stop now. She sobbed and sobbed, over the boy she needed but could never have. But she could not cry. She couldn't cry. No, no tears would fall. She felt like her sanity was slipping away, slowly, painfully.

_Why can't things just be normal? Why can't I just live a typical life in high school with all the jocks and the nerds and the cheerleaders?_

As much as she tried to convince herself it was true, Clary knew that she would never wish that. That would mean not meeting Jace. And, although his very existence caused her agony like no other, she knew she would not trade him for anything, _anything, _in the world.

"Jace," she whispered. "I need you, Jace…"

_Go home, Clary. Go home._

Where was home?

And she closed her eyes, exhaustion and sadness overwhelming her, and felt as though she was falling. Falling, hard, into a dark abyss that she wasn't sure she would be able to climb out. Clary felt like she was choking, drowning in pain, in loss, in what she could not have.

She needed him. She needed him to be there, arms open wide, pulling her out into the light. But she was alone in the darkness. She stood alone, a tiny shining star in the nightsky.

And he wouldn't be there to catch her when she fell. Not this time.


End file.
